Welcome to What I Miss Most, a recurring column in which writers wax poetic about the things from home that they found themselves yearning for upon moving to NYC (or the things from NYC they craved upon moving away from it). For an archive of previous What I Miss Most columns, click here.
There's a bridge in Miami called the MacArthur Causeway. It's an elevated section of I-395 that connects Miami to South Beach, and it's a goddamned thrill.
When New York and I were still in the courting phase and I was aggressively flirting with the idea of moving here, I didn't think about the bridge much. At that point, with a seven-year relationship behind me and my 30s not so far in front of me, I was finding excuses to visit NYC every couple months. The high I felt walking its streets -- that's what I thought about. My life was basically a best-selling Lauren Weisberger novel, give or take a few quirky sidekicks and a daring career change, and in the final pages of the Florida chapter, there was no room for the MacArthur.